


adverse reaction

by elizabethelizabeth



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Adventures in A&E, Demons Don't Get Allergic Reactions Except Apparently They Do, Fluff, Humor, M/M, allusions to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23437297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethelizabeth/pseuds/elizabethelizabeth
Summary: Crowley indulges Aziraphale. It doesn't go according to plan.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 99





	adverse reaction

**Author's Note:**

> I lied, THIS is the silliest thing I've ever written
> 
> beta read by dragon_with_a_teacup, who I'm indebted to

Crowley pondered the limits of his and Aziraphale’s magic. Powers. Demonically granted abilities for his, heavenly for Aziraphale. Whatever it was that the two of them had granted them the ability to snap things in and out of existence, Crowley considered it.

Aziraphale’s powers maybe  _ shouldn’t  _ have been able to do what he was currently doing, but who was going to stop him. Not Hell or Heaven, now that they were staying well away from Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s business, thank you very much. And Crowley wasn’t going to stop Aziraphale, either— not when he looked so pleased with current affairs.

And Aziraphale looked so bloody  _ pleased  _ as well: sitting primly, knees tucked beneath his body, surrounded on all sides by floating porcelain ramekins filled with various foodstuffs, and looking at Crowley with such a fond look that Crowley had no choice but to return it.

Aziraphale looked away to peer into one of the ramekins, and his smile deepened before he looked back at Crowley. “You sure you’re alright with this?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You think I’d agree so far if I  _ wasn’t  _ okay with this?”

“I’m making totally sure, my darling. We’ll cease at once if you’re apprehensive.”

“Look,” Crowley leaned up on his forearms from his previous prostrate form, not missing the twitch of Aziraphale’s mouth or the way his eyes moved immediately to Crowley’s now extra-prominent collarbones. “You want to eat food from off my body. I want your mouth on me. This is a mutually beneficial endeavor. If I’m at any point not extremely interested in your mouth being on me, I will let you know.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to discorporate.”

“Don’t make this macabre, dear.” Aziraphale plucked a ramekin from where it hung in the air and produced a pastry brush from some culinary third plane. “Lie back, dearest.”

Crowley did, grinning. 

Soon, there was Nutella on his nipples, chutney on his cheek, and hummus dolloped on his hip bones, but never for long, as Aziraphale’s tongue made short work of each as soon as they made contact with Crowley’s body. Crowley reveled in the attention, despite knowing that the majority of Aziraphale’s moans of pleasure were because of the mole on the muscle of his right arm. 

Things began to go awry when Aziraphale was lapping at the dijon on Crowley’s— well, you get the picture.

“Hey, angel?”

The otherwise occupied angel made a noise to prove he was listening but did not stop his ministrations otherwise. 

“My chest is, like, really itchy.”

Aziraphale sighed as he pulled away from his task. “Maybe the chimichurri was too abrasive on your skin?” Aziraphale looked up to Crowley’s chest and immediately gasped. “Oh, good Lord,  _ Crowley _ !”

“Is it bad?”

“Crowley you’re  _ covered  _ in hives! You look horrid!”

“My throat also feels really tight, is that normal?”

“You’re having an allergic reaction.” Aziraphale snapped himself into clothing, though it looked distractedly rumpled. “We need to go to A&E.”

“I’m not  _ human _ . I can’t  _ have  _ allergic reactions!” The emphasis of this statement was belied by Crowley’s rapidly numbing tongue, to the point where  _ reactions  _ sounded more a noise emitted from a gargling swamp creature rather than a demon whose grasp on the English language was tenuous at best.

Aziraphale then snapped Crowley into jeans and a tie-dye shirt from the Strand Bookstore Crowley had bought for Aziraphale as a joke. “Don’t make a fuss, Crowley. I’m miracling us there. I won’t have the drama of an ambulance taking you to A&E, even though I’m sure you’d love that.”

What Crowley would actually love was to be able to breathe normally, but he was having trouble articulating that thought.

Thirty minutes and a confusing encounter with an intake nurse later, Aziraphale was answering questions pertaining to Crowley’s diet. Crowley couldn’t, as his tongue has swelled to the size of a small island.

“He’s such a picky eater, but he did have, ah,  _ interactions  _ with some new foods today.”

“Such as?” The doctor (Schmidt, per her nametag) was currently administering a shot of generic antihistamine into Crowley’s left arm. 

“Nutella, mango chutney, some delectable tomato jam we bought in North Carolina last year, peanut butter—”

“Has Anthony ever been tested for nut allergies?”

Crowley and Aziraphale shook their heads simultaneously, Crowley a little more sarcastically, thinking something along the lines of  _ I’ve been alive since Eden, I can’t be allergic to  _ peanuts.

“That’s my educated guess. I’ll write a referral to some allergists, and they can get you sorted with a scratch test.”

Crowley’s tongue and skin were both back to sorts by the time they made it back to Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“I  _ am  _ sorry, my darling,” Aziraphale said to Crowley’s slouched and irritated form, huddled on the sofa and still clad in the garish tie-dye shirt. “I had no  _ idea  _ demons could be allergic to anything.”

“Wish I was allergic to  _ you  _ right now,” Crowley said sullenly.

“You don’t mean that.”

Crowley didn’t, of course, but it made him feel better to say it.

Aziraphale sat beside Crowley, running his fingers through the demon’s hair until said demon laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Thank you,” Aziraphale said fondly. “For accomodating my fantasy. We’ll not repeat it for a while, I think, but thank you regardless.”

Crowley hid his smile as best he could, which was not well at all, and mumbled a soft  _ you’re welcome  _ before relaxing further into Aziraphale’s embrace.


End file.
